This morning I buried Laura. Laura was a little kitten (about 10 weeks old) that appeared at my property fence two days after another favorite cat of mine died. It was uncannyd how much she looked like the other cat. I took her in and she was a bright spot in my life for a few months. She was a tiny little cat, full of life, playful and ahe would jump into the lap of anyone who came to visit. Two weeks ago she was diagnosed with FIP, a horrible disease in cats that takes protein out of the blood and lets it build up around the intestines and organs and leads to death in a few weeks due to depletion of protein in the blood. For the next two weeks I was her only companion because she had to be isolated from the other cats. I spent as much time with her as possible. If I had to work away from the house I would check on her every hour or two and talk to her and hold her in my lap. At night she would curl up on my chest or shoulder and sleep. Each morning I would take her out into the yard for fresh air and to see the sights. She was very alert and noticed everything. But each day I could see the slow decline of her strength and the buildup of fluid. Yesterday, after a conference with the veterinarian, I knew I had to make the hardest choice of my life. I knew that Laura was very weak and possibly feeling some pain. I went home and held her for a while then picked up the phone to call the veterinarian then changed my mind back and forth a dozen times. I knew I would be selfish to try to keep her alive as long as possible in her condition. I finally mustered enough courage to push the button and tell the vet that I was bringing Laura in to be put to sleep. After it was over I brought her home and cried like a baby. As a matter of fact I am having to wipe tears out of my eyes as I type this letter. I realize that in the last two weeks Laura had become my best little pal and that in that time I had learned to love her even more than I had before. It literally broke my heart to have to part with her but I loved her too much to watch her waste away any longer and die an agonizing death. Sleep peacefully, little Laura.

John from Texas